


Punished

by exyking



Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: BDSM, Dom Damen, Dom/sub, M/M, Name-Calling, Praise Kink, Punishment, Riding Crops, Spanking, Sub Laurent, coming while being spanked, pretty intense spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 12:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14977592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exyking/pseuds/exyking
Summary: “You could have avoided this, Laurent,” Damen says, “if you had just been a good boy, and done as you were told.”





	Punished

**Author's Note:**

  * For [l_cloudy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_cloudy/gifts).



> I apologise for this being like the 89th fic i've uploaded today.
> 
> Thank you elle/@liesmyth for the prompt!
> 
> Check the tags for content warnings. If you continue reading, it's on you.

"Laurent, look at me.”

Laurent ignores this, which is petulant, but Laurent is rather in a petulant mood. He kneels on the floor, naked and unselfconscious, with his hands on his spread thighs, and keeps his eyes firmly on the ground. He refuses to look up, even when Damen’s boots appear in his vision.

It is only when the riding crop is stuck under his chin and begins drawing his face upwards, that Laurent finally obeys.

Damen does not look pleased.

“I know that you feel the need to insist on being a difficult little bitch,” Damen says, “but you will obey me when I give you a direct command. Do you understand?”

Damen waits for Laurent’s acknowledgement, for him to sound off with his “yes sirs” and “sorry sirs”, but Laurent doesn’t feel in the mood for giving Damen what he wants.

He smirks, insolent, letting his posture slip into a arrogant sort of languidness. He knows exactly how to rile Damen up. 

What he doesn’t expect is for the riding crop to come slamming down onto his thigh. Laurent yelps, jumping half a foot at the sharp sting and surprise of it. He doesn’t make it far before Damen is crouching in front of him, fingers gripping Laurent’s chin in a merciless hold. His eyes are positively storming.

“Do you know what happens to obnoxious little brats who won’t do as they’re told?” Damen says. The deceptive tone of pleasantness puts Laurent on edge. “They get  _punished_.”

He stands then, and turns away. Laurent watches him warily. For the first time in a long time, Damen has managed to surprise him. He has no idea where this is going.

When Damen returns he is holding something in his hand. Laurent looks at it suspiciously, unable to make out what it is with it folded in Damen’s palm like that. He doesn’t have to wait long to find out. Damen kneels before him again and lets the strip of leather fold out of his palm. He holds it, dangling, before Laurent’s eyes.

Laurent feels his cheeks heat.

It is a collar. A smooth, sleek, soft black leather collar and, engraved in it’s side, the words:  _Property of Damianos._

“I’m  _not wearing that,”_ Laurent snarls.

It is, in part, due to the humiliation of it. The idea that Damen would collar him like a pet, like a  _slave,_ like he  _owns him._

It is mostly because he wants it so muchhe can scarcely  _think_.

Damen looks at him, long and hard. Laurent refuses to look away, refuses to flinch, refuses to yield, but even so, it is hopeless.

“You will,” Damen says. “Or you will make your punishment that much worse for yourself.”

It is the kind of ultimatum that Damen knows Laurent can’t win. In a way, Laurent is almost glad. He can blame it on the fear of punishment when he finally presents his neck for Damen to decorate with that infernal collar.

The weight of it around Laurent’s throat feels more comforting than it should. Almost subconsciously he feels his body begin to relax, the tension of apprehension beginning to unwind. When he exhales, his breath is ragged.

“Good boy,” Damen says.

Laurent shivers.

Damen hooks his finger in the collar and rises suddenly to his feet, pulling the collar taut as he does. It is an undeniable presence around Laurent’s throat now, and he swallows, throat sticking where the pressure of the leather prevents him from doing so properly. His every breath is a reminder of it’s presence. Every beat of his heart is a reminder that it is  _there._

Damen starts walking then, dragging Laurent along behind him, forcing him to crawl after him as fast as he can if he doesn’t wish to choke. Damen reaches a chair, set up beside their bed, and drops Laurent’s collar to sit down on it. Laurent has a sinking suspicion he knows where this is going.

“Come,” Damen says. His voice is a command, the kind that will not be argued with. The submissive in Laurent wants to scramble to obey, to make Damen happy, to do whatever he asks.

The petulant part of Laurent wants to see how far he can push him before he snaps.

And so, Laurent doesn’t move. He kneels there, crosses his arms, and smirks. He dares Damen to do something about it. Damen more than rises to the bait. He darts forward, hand snatching Laurent’s hair and using it to tug him forward  _hard._ Laurent yelps, scrambling to get his feet under him and lessen the pressure, but Damen barely allows him that. He is being pulled over Damen’s lap, his legs parted and one of Damen’s calves curling around his, keeping him spread. It happens so fast Laurent doesn’t have any time to protest.

“Dame–”

“You will call me sir,” Damen cuts him off. “And you will apologise for being a spoiled little bitch.”

Laurent scoffs, utterly incredulous. So incredulous, he has no time to prepare for the hand that comes slamming down on his bare ass. The sting of it is sharp and hot and insistent, and the force of the collision burrows down deep into his skin, sinking into his bones with a hot, painful throb that goes straight to his cock. Laurent gasps at the feeling, body spasming, but Damen holds him down firm.

“Apologise,” he says.

Laurent keeps his mouth shut.

The next slap lands on the other cheek, just as hard and deliberate as the first. It feels like fire under his skin, like a thousand tiny stinging points. The throb in his ass is  _worse_ this time. He feels his cock begin to harden against Damen thigh.

“Apologise,” Damen says again.

For a moment, Laurent wants to deny him again. He doesn’t want to give Damen what he wants.

The next slap changes his mind.

It is right over the top of the first, and it is so sudden that Laurent cries out. He tries to scrabble away, tries to twist out of Damen’s grip, but Damen doesn’t relent. He holds Laurent down, hard, and forces him to ride out the burning pain and bone deep pleasure of the beating he has been served.

“I’m sorry!” Laurent grits out. “I’m fucking sorry,  _sir.”_

It is near enough to what Damen wants that Laurent thinks he’ll get away with it. But today is far from normal.

The next slap lands over the top of the other, and Laurent feels his eyes prickle at the sting. He can’t help the way his body jerks, can’t help his fingers digging into the legs of the chair as he tries to bear it. He gasps, the sound shaky, and knows that he’s  _fucked up._

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry sir.”

Damen smooths his hand over Laurent’s ass, and at first it stings, almost unbearably, but as he slowly begins to press into and massage the skin, that familiar bone deep ache that somehow feels so  _good_ comes back, and Laurent grits his teeth and bears it.

“You could have avoided this, Laurent,” Damen says as his presses his fingers in deep. “If you had just been a good boy, and done as you were told.”

Laurent bites his tongue to silence his retort. He doesn’t know how much more he can handle.

“Your original punishment was only 10 spanks,” Damen goes on, “but I think, after that display, you deserve a little more.”

Laurent jerks in surprise, trying to twist and look Damen in the eye, plead with him  _not to do this._ He can’t take anymore, not of  _those_ slaps. He  _can’t._

 _“_ Settle down,” Damen says, hand pressed to the small of his back to keep him pinned. “Be good, or you’ll just get more.”

Laurent wants to object. He wants to insist that this is ridiculous. A part of him wants to use his safe word and walk out the door in protest.

Damen’s hand settles on the back of his neck, carding gently through his hair, gathering it over one shoulder until the back of his neck is bared. His finger hooks into Laurent collar, pulling hard, choking Laurent so suddenly he coughs and his hands desperately clutch at Damen’s thighs.

“You will thank me after every slap, do you understand?”

He releases Laurent, letting him slump back over Damen’s legs. Laurent coughs, clearing his throat, but the pressure of that collar cutting off both breath and circulation still tingles under his skin. He shivers, the feeling of being  _possessed, owned_ , simmering in his chest something hot and insistent. It is for that feeling alone that Laurent knows there was never any chance at walking away from this.

He wants it too much.

“Yes,  _sir,”_ he says.

“10 for your original punishment, 10 more for your cheek, and 10 with the crop for disobeying a direct instruction.”

Panic flares up in Laurent’s chest. He doesn’t know if he can handle that. 30 hits is… it’s a lot. They’ve never done that much before.

But Laurent will not beg for mercy. He will not give Damen the satisfaction.

The first spank is much lighter than the first four, but that isn’t saying much. Laurent ass is already stinging, and even a brush of air feels like too much. The full force of Damen’s slap is a flash of agony, travelling hot as fire up his spine. He cries out, moisture welling up in his eyes, his body instinctively jerking away from the pain. The deep throb that settles in after is hardly any relief, but it still pools in his groin, still goes straight to his cock. It almost feels like his body is betraying him.

In his confusion, Laurent forgets to say thank you.

The next slap lands on the lower swell of his ass and, before Laurent can begin to process it, is followed immediately by a second on the other side. He cries out again, jerking so hard tears are shaken from his eyelashes.

“Fuck!” He cries out.

“You will say thank you after every slap,” Damen reminds him. “If I have to remind you again, I will add more to your total.”

That, more than anything, is motivation for Laurent to finally do as he is told.

“Thank you, sir,” he grits out.

Damen slaps him again.

On and on it goes, one hot stroke of agony after the other, each and every one followed by confusing pleasure and a breathless, nearly incoherent plea of thanks. By the time they reach 15, Laurent doesn’t think he is going to make it. 

Tears are flowing freely down his face, Laurent can no longer hold them back. His body jerks and writhes after every slap, the reaction completely beyond his control, entirely instinct to defend against the agony of every blow. But, despite all that, despite how much it  _hurts,_ Laurent’s cock is still hard. Every time he writhes it rubs against Damen’s thigh, leaking profusely over his trousers. Every blow drives that ache so deep inside him he can feel it in his throat, making his cock jerk and throb. 

“Please, please, please, Damen,  _please_ –”

“Shhhhhhh.” Damen stops for a moment, hand resting lightly on the small of Laurent’s back and stroking him soothingly. “You’re taking it so beautifully. Only 5 more and then we’ll take a break.”

Laurent is quiet for a moment, sniffling embarrassingly, before he nods. 

He thinks the next blow might be a bit gentler, but his ass hurts so much it’s hard to tell.

“Count them for me, Laurent,” Damen says. “Just four more.”

Laurent tries. The next blow lands right on crack of his ass, and this, more than any blow before it, drives that ache so deep into his core that Laurent can scarcely breathe. He feels his asshole  _throb,_ feel his cock pulse and jerk against Damen’s leg. He feels the air driven out of his lungs.

But, still, he tries to speak. “Six— Sixte– teen, fuck, oh fuck, thank you, th—thank you sir.”

The next one lands under the swell of his ass, connecting with the more sensitive skin of his thigh. Laurent can’t help his body’s reaction. He jerks so violently he nearly falls off of Damen’s lap. 

“Seventeen! Fuck, I can’t, fuck– thank you, thank you sir–”

The next, on his right cheek.

The one after that on the left.

The next and final slap lands once more on the centre of his ass. Laurent cries out shamelessly, it hurts so good and deep inside him. He feels the throb down to his  _toes._

“Twenty! Twenty, thank you, thank you sir.”

Laurent feels absolutely shattered. His ass hurts so much he knows he’ll be lucky if he can sit on it come a week from now.

“Good boy,” Damen says, voice so soft and soothing. “You did so well.”

The satisfaction that fans across Laurent’s chest is more than worth any amount of pain he’s had to endure. It’s worth the sharp sting, the bone deep ache, the building desperation that is his need to come. He nuzzles into Damen’s thigh, unable to stop himself, and practically purrs as Damen strokes his hair.

“Tell you what,” Damen says. “If you crawl over there and get me my crop, i’ll reduce the number to 5.”

Laurent freezes.

He had forgotten about the crop. Surely… surely after that Damen couldn’t be planning on… He couldn’t be  _serious._

 _“Or,”_ Damen says. “I’ll go and get it, and you’ll get your full 10. Your choice, sweetheart.”

Laurent chokes on a sob.

“Dame–”

“Sir.”

“ _Sir,_ please,  _I can’t._

Damen chuckles. “Should have thought twice before you were an insolent little bitch then, I guess.”

To Damen’s credit, he lets Laurent take his time. He is slumped over Damen’s lap, quietly sobbing into Damen’s trousers. Damen comforts him with a hand in his hair, tugging occasionally at the collar because he knows it is grounding for Laurent. 

It takes a good 5 minutes, but finally, finally Laurent sniffles and straightens up, slowly sliding off Damen’s lap. It looks as though every movement is a fresh wave of pain, but he obediently turns and begins to crawl over to where Damen left his crop on the floor by the bench. Damen sits back and enjoys the view.

Laurent’s ass is a deep, painful looking red. There are flecks of purple, where Damen has broken blood vessels under the skin, but it looks good. It looks  _perfect._

Laurent reaches the crop, and goes to pick it up before Damen stops him.

“Not like that,” Damen says. “With your mouth.”

Laurent’s tear stained cheeks flush red. For a moment, Damen thinks he will object, that Damen will be forced to deliver those promised 10 blows after all. But, after a long hesitation, Laurent begins to move. He bends low, opening his mouth, and closes it around the long leather handle of the crop. Laurent’s own riding crop, the very same he uses when he visits his parent’s ranch. 

Damen wonders if he’ll ever be able to look at it again without thinking of this.

He crawls back over, progress slow and weary. When he reaches Damen, he stops at his feet, holding the crop obediently in his mouth and looking up at Damen through tear stained lashes.

“Such a good boy,” Damen says. He leans forward, taking the crop from between Laurent's lips, and cups Laurent’s face in his hand, pressing a lingering kiss to Laurent’s mouth. “Such a good boy for me.”

Laurent makes the smallest and most pitiful noise, absolutely wrecked on Damen’s praise. He follows without protest as Damen pulls him back up onto his lap. He spreads his legs obediently, makes no fuss as Damen pulls his cock down between his thighs, angling it so that it rests flat of Damen’s thigh between Laurent’s legs.

Damen doesn’t make him count, this time.

The first swat of the crop lands on the meat of his ass. Laurent jerks, cries out, voice choking on a sob. The second lands on the other cheek, and this seems to finally snap Laurent out of his obedient haze. He squirms, trying to get away once more, but Damen holds him down  _hard._ He curls his fingers under Laurent’s collar, pulling it taut against Laurent’s throat. It is loose enough that Laurent can breathe, but the pressure of it is all that Damen needs. It sends Laurent spiralling, his body going absolutely taut and still under Damen’s touch, a part of himself unlocking, and giving in. It is what Damen has been waiting for.

With absolute precision, Damen lands the crop in three swift blows. One, on the underside of Laurent’s ass, one on his taint, and the last, the gentlest of them all, on the head of Laurent’s cock.

Laurent absolutely  _shatters._

His body spasms, fraught with so much tension it looks like he might break, his cry is strained around his sobs and the collar choking him. He grinds against Damen once, and just like that, he is coming. His eyes roll into the back of his head, his nails dig almost painfully into Damen’s thighs, but the sounds he makes are absolutely exquisite. Damen nearly comes from that alone.

Damen holds him through it. When, finally, he seems to come back to himself, Damen pulls him in close. He soothes him, whispers praise and comfort and adoration in his ears. He strokes his hair, he traces gentle fingers down his spine and, when Laurent is able, he gathers him up and holds him in his lap. He is careful not to touch Laurent’s ass, careful not to irritate the painful looking skin.

Laurent sobs into his chest, and holds on as though his life depends on it.

A long time later, Laurent rests his head on Damen’s shoulder and looks up at him through wet lashes. Damen smiles at him, kisses his nose and laughs harder when Laurent’s face wrinkles.

“That fucking hurt,” Laurent says.

“Good,” Damen laughs. “I hope the lesson sticks.”

Laurent scoffs, shoving Damen with absolutely limp hands. Damen catches them and brings them to his lips, pressing kisses to each and every fingertip.

He gathers Laurent close, telling him to wrap his legs tight around Damen’s waist, and stands, pulling Laurent up with him. He doesn’t trust Laurent’s legs to be able to carry him over to the bed right now. He sets Laurent down gently on the mattress, turning him onto his stomach to avoid irritating his ass. It looks painful. It looks perfect. Damen has to stop himself from touching it, to see if the red skin is as hot as it looks.

“There’s water on the bedside table,” he says. He strokes hair out of Laurent’s eyes, tucking it behind his ear. “Make sure you drink it, all of it, Laurent. I’ll go and get the cream.”

Laurent nods, unthinkingly obedient, and it is so sweet Damen can’t help but kiss him again.

“Come back quick,” Laurent says.

“You know I will, sweetheart.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Reblog on tumblr here!](http://exyking.tumblr.com/post/175045064988/what-about-spanking)   
> 


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